


Cough Syrup

by Yviinfinite



Series: Sherlock Has Ruined My Life [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sherlock is sick, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 21:00:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12176493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yviinfinite/pseuds/Yviinfinite
Summary: Sherlock is sick, and you decide to help.





	1. Chapter 1

Coughing awoke you from your sleep. Confused you rose and turned, vision still blurry from sleep. Sherlock was there beside you, seemingly hunched over and shaking. "Sherlock?", you asked, blinking the sleepy fog away. His head turned slightly, his coughing reduced to small jerks of his body. Hesitantly you put your hands on his back, rubbing soothing circles into the skin there. Sherlock seemed to relax a little. "Good morning", he croaked. Immediately you knew something was wrong. He was hoarse, and you could clearly see that he wasn't feeling well at all. You could feel his heat on your hands. "Oh no...", you muttered, moving one hand to his face to gently lay it across his forehead. Sherlock was sweating slightly, and his eyes were glassy. Also, he was extremely warm. "You're sick...", you muttered, eyeing the detective sympathetically. His eyes widened, before he slightly shook his head, expression terrified.

"I'm not sick", he said, trying too hard to sound normal. You raised your eyebrow, giving Sherlock a stern look. "Stay in bed, Sherlock. You're obviously sick." As if to prove that he was in fact not sick, he stood up quickly, watching you with a smug expression. After a second that expression faded, and he fell sideways back into the bed. "Told you", you muttered, pulling the covers over his body once again. He grumbled, but complied. After you made sure he was securely tugged in, you stood up and left the bedroom.

You got everything. Pain killers, couch syrup, something to lower his fever. You even started to make a soup. You were surprised when you opened the door. Sherlock was still in bed, even though he was pouting. He looked over to you, then his eyes narrowed as he saw the medicine. You could see by the way he pressed his lips together that he would refuse to take it. He had no problem with pills, you knew that much, but he hated the cough syrup. Sherlock had told you that he, whenever he was sick, had to take that exact cough syrup, and he had many bad memories about it. It helped, of course, but that didn't make it any better.

You gave him the pills, which he greedily took, but as you offered him the cough syrup he just gave you a defiant look. "Sherlock", you sighed, holding it out to him again. He huffed, crossing his arms like a stubborn child. With an annoyed look you opened the bottle, pouring out some of the liquid onto a spoon. You offered it to him, to which he only leaned back further. "Sherlock", you growled. "Just take it" He protested loudly, which only ended in him having another cough attack. Not taking any chances, you shoved the spoon into his mouth so he didn't have any other option than to swallow. He glared daggers at you, but you only smiled smugly and patted his hair. "Good boy" You then stood up, turning to the door. "Don't worry. I'll make you feel better Sherlock" Then you left the room.


	2. Taking Care

You felt miserable. You head and throat hurt, you were shivering despite your covers and you sniffled every few seconds. You were sick. And Sherlock had infected you. Silently you cursed the man. Of course he had to insist on cuddling whilst he was still sick, and now you were ten times more sick than he was! Now, a few weeks after the cough syrup dilemma, you were bound to bed, Sherlock determined to make you feel better. 

You blew your nose yet again, the tender skin red and irritated. Sherlock sat beside you, patiently holding a bowl of soup. He made you sit up, leaning against the headboard. Carefully he held the spoon to your face, humming slightly when you parted your mouth. A playful glare was sent his way. "You know I can eat myself?", you asked after you swallowed. You had to admit, the soup was very good. But you knew that it wasn't Sherlock who made it, but Mrs. Hudson, the sweetheart. He chuckled, feeding you another spoonful of the tasty warmth.

After you were finished with the soup Sherlock pulled out a thermometer. To be honest you did feel a little feverish, but you would never admit that in front of him. He felt guilty enough already. If it made him happy to pamper you, you would let him. He was just too adorable when he was happy. And maybe you'd feel better soon. The thermometer was taken from you. "You have a fever", Sherlock mumbled, quickly standing up and leaving the room. He was probably getting fever lowering medicine, but you knew you ran out when Sherlock was sick. Suddenly his head pocked into the room. "I have to go out and get something. Will you be alright on your own?" 

You nodded. He smiled, pulling his head out of the room. A few moments later you heard the door fall shut. You sighed, smiling a little. You really loved Sherlock.

**Author's Note:**

> You can check out my tumblr @Yviinfinite if you want to send in a request! :D


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